I'd trade my Gunner jersey to make this a real moment.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Saturday, December 5, 2009
The Ba(n)d Episode
“Okay, where is this new house of yours??” asked Ritesh on the cell phone.
I was enjoying a lazy afternoon at the new place, all alone, watching a How I Met Your Mother marathon on TV. when Ritesh had called.
“Whatdya mean? You wanna come over?” I asked, by way of a reply.
“Well I think I’m in the neighbourhood, and I have something important to tell you.”
Now, the thing about Ritesh, he never had anything unimportant to say. Nothing as trivial as the weather or the game last night finds its space in Ritesh’s brain.
“Sure, just tell me where you are, and I’ll give you the route.” I replied, my brain already buzzing at what Ritesh could probably have to say on a weekday afternoon.
“Well, I’m standing at a 3-way near the bypass…which road do I take?”
“The one on the right and keep walking straight till you hit the compound.”
Another thing about Ritesh, he has absolutely no sense of direction. With hardly any work, Ritesh could get lost inside a telephone booth. So I wasn’t surprised when he took nearly half an hour to reach my home where most people take just under ten minutes. Bent at the waist, hands on the knees, gasping like he’d run a race, Ritesh was the very picture of the average teenager in much need of exercise.
“Well, I told you to keep walking straight…but evidently, you had trouble following even that route.”
“I thought I’d found a shorter route, but it had a treacherous curve to it. Of course, I realized that too late. But, let us not talk drivel, for I have something to tell you that will blow your brain…at the very minimum.” he said. He was still pretty pink after his exertions but now there was a hint of a smile.
“Well, make yourself comfy while I get you something cold. God, Ritesh, next time I tell you to go straight, you go straight!” I said from the kitchen, fixing him a cold one.
A minute later, glass of lemonade in his hand, Ritesh drew himself up very soberly and asked, “You ready for what I have to say?”
My interest was fairly high and I said yes.
I still regret it.
“Okay, as I pour forth, do NOT interrupt! I intend to start a band and so far I have everything where I want except one major thing. I needed a drummer and I asked myself who, among all the people I know, would be good enough a drummer for my band? And I come up with your name, naturally. Now, this band idea is not without a firmer purpose than just roaming the countryside looking for performances. I know a person at this upcoming café on Park Street who’d give us a good deal for weekend performances.
There is money in this business and I intend to make a fortune out of it. So, what say? You’re in?”
Ritesh is also given to a fair share of crazy ideas. Usually, it takes our entire company together to make him see reason but this time he was not to be made see reason the easy way. Shrewdly, he had visited the intended people at their homes where the opposition against his ideas would be minimal. But I would not go without a fight.
“No way I’m in a band! It’s ridiculous! I don’t even know who else there is…and…and it’s been a long time since I’ve played drums.” I countered.
“Aw pshaw! There’s Rahul on bass and I’ll be lead vocals and guitar. Small band, but I figure we’ll be pretty good at it. And I have every faith in your drums skills. C’mon! It’ll even pay! Not much in the beginning, but as we put in more performances, I daresay the money’ll look good.”
“All that’s very good, but there’s no way I’m going to play in public…its not like I need the money, you know.”
“Fine then…but don’t forget that band-guys score major with girls, and if I remember right, that is something you do need.”
Ritesh had done his homework. There was a girl, Debadrita, I was trying to go out with. But first impressions, regrettably, were not that good and I was desperately trying to make things right again. Somehow Ritesh had caught hold of this bit of information and was now milking it for all it was worth. And I must say, at that time, that cheap trick worked on me. I saw him looking at me with a smile on his face. He had seen his victory on my face.
“Fine…I’ll do it, but just for Debadrita and I don’t need the money”, I said, looking the other way.
“Oh look at you, Quixote… hopeless in the clutches of dumb love…okay, practice starts from Wednesday. We have this entire week and the weekend after that, we perform!”
And with that, he was off.
Wednesday practice was a lot better for Rahul than for the two of us. He seemed to be the only one who had somehow managed to practice the guitar. My drum was anything but good percussion and Ritesh’s singing wasn’t making it any better while his guitar was making it worse.
“Oh baby I can’t hear you!!
You’ll have to sing harder!
Baby I can’t hear youuuuu!!”
This is just the first verse of the lyrical horror that Ritesh said would floor the crowd at our gig.
To make this agonizing part really short, the description above was more or less the same for the rest of the days’ practice. But I was without my, if modest (oh who am I kidding? It’s minuscule) good common sense and I did not abandon my titanic. When you’re in love, you get priorities upside down and making a fool of yourself will seem to be perfectly normal. On the night before our performance I texted Debadrita telling her about the gig and told her it’d be great if she came.
The day came without much in the way of being heralded as anything special. The sun rose, and my desire for a morning run died a clockwork death, as on every other morning, in bed. Rest of the day was pretty much the same too except for the feeling you have in your guts when you know that you are going to do something very big (and unbelievably dumb) in a short while. At around four in the afternoon I set out for the café where we were supposed to perform. Ritesh had called earlier that day saying that everything would be set up for us. The metro ride to Park Street was customarily stuffy and uncomfortable. Coming out of the subway, the ten minute walk to the café was the first moment that I realized that Debadrita had never replied to my sms. But I put that down to her aversion to making much conversation. Maybe she’d come. Reaching the café, I found it to be one of the new retail chains opening all over the country. Their tag line was “A lot can happen over coffee and cake”. Well, a lot was going to happen that day. I saw that both Ritesh and Rahul had reached the place before me. Rahul was looking composed but Ritesh was downright smiling! I remember feeling so queasy at reaching the café (sometimes that happens when you see the venue where you know you will be making an ass of yourself, in love or not) that his smile was even a bit comforting. At least he thought it wouldn’t go wrong. We were making nervous small talk when Ritesh’s contact at the café came out and guided us in through a backdoor. Leading us into, what had earlier been a storage room of some sort, he told us that we had five minutes and then we’d be onstage.
“Okay! This is what we’ve been practicing for the last two weeks and I say we do it!” pepped up Ritesh.
Did we have a choice? I think I did. I could have run.
“Sure man….better get a move on.” replied Rahul picking up his guitar case.
After getting lost a couple of times (Ritesh was leading) we managed to reach the small stage. Getting Rahul’s and Ritesh’s guitars set up took a few minutes and then we were ready. Some café guy came up and took the microphone to introduce us. I didn’t hear much of it. The sound of blood pounding through my ears was loud enough to drown every other noise at that moment. I tried to look into the crowd of the café patrons. It was dimly lighted and not the sensibly way either. But from what I could make out, Debadrita hadn’t arrived (yet?). Then I heard Ritesh start talking and after a while the cue for us to start playing.
“Oh baby I can’t hear you!!
You’ll have to sing harder!
Baby I can’t hear youuuuu!!”
The adrenaline rush I was feeling right then was just about letting me play the drums properly. Which is why I couldn’t see that the crowd wasn’t reacting the way Ritesh had calculated. In retrospect, I think Rahul was the first one who sensed it, which made sense because Ritesh always sings with his eyes closed and face screwed into an image of utmost concentration. Rahul missed a chord first. And then he missed it again. Ritesh, missing his cue, faltered. That’s when the first missile hit him. It was only a bit of cake topping, but it was enough to stop us completely. And then the missiles rained. I got up from behind the drums when I saw Rahul running for cover. It was just another bad decision in the end. My feet got caught up in the cables and I stumbled right in front Ritesh. Something hit me on the head and that’s the last I remember seeing anything of the café.
When I woke up, I was lying on a couch in….Ritesh's place. There was a dull ache in the side of my skull. Touching it, I saw someone had bandaged over a very big swelling. On top of all that, nothing was making any sense.
“So, come around finally, have you?” I heard Ritesh from behind me.
“Damn….what happ—why am I here?!”
“Wow…you know, of all the people I know who’ve had their heads bashed in, you’re the first who asked that question. Okay, now the more important question would be- ‘what went wrong in there?’”
For a few groggy moments I didn’t even realize that he was talking about the gig at the café. Then realization came screaming like a freight train on a cold winter morning.
“Look Ritesh…no offence, but this band thing was on a really short notice…and I just don’t think we were good enough to go out there. And what did they throw at me?! An anvil?!”
“Ah….it was a salt shaker, or a pepper one. One can never be sure about these particulars at such times when one is dodging plates. So you think that with time and practice, our band can excel our present form and then we can go public?”
And then I told him why it would be better for all of us if the band thing didn’t go any forward. With time, the only things that could improve would be the crowd’s aim and choice of projectiles. It wasn’t easy convincing Ritesh to give up the idea, but he saw the reason in my bump on the head.
“Oh well…I suppose we went as far as we could. No money, though. Oh, and did it work out with Debadrita?”
No, it hadn’t. At least I don’t remember seeing her in the crowd.
“Naah… oh well, it was a long shot anyway. Maybe she didn’t get my message…”
“Oh will you forget her now?! She clearly doesn’t have anything for you! You can lie to yourself that she does, but that wouldn’t get you anywhere now, would it? Look, being single right now…it’s the best thing. There’s plenty of others too and with Christmas around the corner we can score with them!”
It was going to be hard to forget her, but Ritesh, Ritesh that he was, hit it on the mark.
“I suppose so…oh well, I gave it my best. Say, what happened to Rahul??”
“Oh, he made it back safe and sound. I just had trouble lugging your carcass through the backdoor. Boy, you are surprisingly heavy. You should start running in the morning, you know.”
On the way back home I lapsed back into my thoughts…thinking about the band…thinking about the gig…about her. I couldn’t kid myself about her anymore. There was nothing and I just had to accept it. At least I had realized that, even if it meant joining a band that had just one performance and even that one cut short by an angry mob and a nasty welt on the head. I felt my phone vibrate.
The display said “YOU HAVE 1 NEW MESSAGE”.
It was from Debadrita. Reading it, I felt everything I had been thinking about go right out the window.
The message read “You’re kiddin, ryt?”
I was enjoying a lazy afternoon at the new place, all alone, watching a How I Met Your Mother marathon on TV. when Ritesh had called.
“Whatdya mean? You wanna come over?” I asked, by way of a reply.
“Well I think I’m in the neighbourhood, and I have something important to tell you.”
Now, the thing about Ritesh, he never had anything unimportant to say. Nothing as trivial as the weather or the game last night finds its space in Ritesh’s brain.
“Sure, just tell me where you are, and I’ll give you the route.” I replied, my brain already buzzing at what Ritesh could probably have to say on a weekday afternoon.
“Well, I’m standing at a 3-way near the bypass…which road do I take?”
“The one on the right and keep walking straight till you hit the compound.”
Another thing about Ritesh, he has absolutely no sense of direction. With hardly any work, Ritesh could get lost inside a telephone booth. So I wasn’t surprised when he took nearly half an hour to reach my home where most people take just under ten minutes. Bent at the waist, hands on the knees, gasping like he’d run a race, Ritesh was the very picture of the average teenager in much need of exercise.
“Well, I told you to keep walking straight…but evidently, you had trouble following even that route.”
“I thought I’d found a shorter route, but it had a treacherous curve to it. Of course, I realized that too late. But, let us not talk drivel, for I have something to tell you that will blow your brain…at the very minimum.” he said. He was still pretty pink after his exertions but now there was a hint of a smile.
“Well, make yourself comfy while I get you something cold. God, Ritesh, next time I tell you to go straight, you go straight!” I said from the kitchen, fixing him a cold one.
A minute later, glass of lemonade in his hand, Ritesh drew himself up very soberly and asked, “You ready for what I have to say?”
My interest was fairly high and I said yes.
I still regret it.
“Okay, as I pour forth, do NOT interrupt! I intend to start a band and so far I have everything where I want except one major thing. I needed a drummer and I asked myself who, among all the people I know, would be good enough a drummer for my band? And I come up with your name, naturally. Now, this band idea is not without a firmer purpose than just roaming the countryside looking for performances. I know a person at this upcoming café on Park Street who’d give us a good deal for weekend performances.
There is money in this business and I intend to make a fortune out of it. So, what say? You’re in?”
Ritesh is also given to a fair share of crazy ideas. Usually, it takes our entire company together to make him see reason but this time he was not to be made see reason the easy way. Shrewdly, he had visited the intended people at their homes where the opposition against his ideas would be minimal. But I would not go without a fight.
“No way I’m in a band! It’s ridiculous! I don’t even know who else there is…and…and it’s been a long time since I’ve played drums.” I countered.
“Aw pshaw! There’s Rahul on bass and I’ll be lead vocals and guitar. Small band, but I figure we’ll be pretty good at it. And I have every faith in your drums skills. C’mon! It’ll even pay! Not much in the beginning, but as we put in more performances, I daresay the money’ll look good.”
“All that’s very good, but there’s no way I’m going to play in public…its not like I need the money, you know.”
“Fine then…but don’t forget that band-guys score major with girls, and if I remember right, that is something you do need.”
Ritesh had done his homework. There was a girl, Debadrita, I was trying to go out with. But first impressions, regrettably, were not that good and I was desperately trying to make things right again. Somehow Ritesh had caught hold of this bit of information and was now milking it for all it was worth. And I must say, at that time, that cheap trick worked on me. I saw him looking at me with a smile on his face. He had seen his victory on my face.
“Fine…I’ll do it, but just for Debadrita and I don’t need the money”, I said, looking the other way.
“Oh look at you, Quixote… hopeless in the clutches of dumb love…okay, practice starts from Wednesday. We have this entire week and the weekend after that, we perform!”
And with that, he was off.
Wednesday practice was a lot better for Rahul than for the two of us. He seemed to be the only one who had somehow managed to practice the guitar. My drum was anything but good percussion and Ritesh’s singing wasn’t making it any better while his guitar was making it worse.
“Oh baby I can’t hear you!!
You’ll have to sing harder!
Baby I can’t hear youuuuu!!”
This is just the first verse of the lyrical horror that Ritesh said would floor the crowd at our gig.
To make this agonizing part really short, the description above was more or less the same for the rest of the days’ practice. But I was without my, if modest (oh who am I kidding? It’s minuscule) good common sense and I did not abandon my titanic. When you’re in love, you get priorities upside down and making a fool of yourself will seem to be perfectly normal. On the night before our performance I texted Debadrita telling her about the gig and told her it’d be great if she came.
The day came without much in the way of being heralded as anything special. The sun rose, and my desire for a morning run died a clockwork death, as on every other morning, in bed. Rest of the day was pretty much the same too except for the feeling you have in your guts when you know that you are going to do something very big (and unbelievably dumb) in a short while. At around four in the afternoon I set out for the café where we were supposed to perform. Ritesh had called earlier that day saying that everything would be set up for us. The metro ride to Park Street was customarily stuffy and uncomfortable. Coming out of the subway, the ten minute walk to the café was the first moment that I realized that Debadrita had never replied to my sms. But I put that down to her aversion to making much conversation. Maybe she’d come. Reaching the café, I found it to be one of the new retail chains opening all over the country. Their tag line was “A lot can happen over coffee and cake”. Well, a lot was going to happen that day. I saw that both Ritesh and Rahul had reached the place before me. Rahul was looking composed but Ritesh was downright smiling! I remember feeling so queasy at reaching the café (sometimes that happens when you see the venue where you know you will be making an ass of yourself, in love or not) that his smile was even a bit comforting. At least he thought it wouldn’t go wrong. We were making nervous small talk when Ritesh’s contact at the café came out and guided us in through a backdoor. Leading us into, what had earlier been a storage room of some sort, he told us that we had five minutes and then we’d be onstage.
“Okay! This is what we’ve been practicing for the last two weeks and I say we do it!” pepped up Ritesh.
Did we have a choice? I think I did. I could have run.
“Sure man….better get a move on.” replied Rahul picking up his guitar case.
After getting lost a couple of times (Ritesh was leading) we managed to reach the small stage. Getting Rahul’s and Ritesh’s guitars set up took a few minutes and then we were ready. Some café guy came up and took the microphone to introduce us. I didn’t hear much of it. The sound of blood pounding through my ears was loud enough to drown every other noise at that moment. I tried to look into the crowd of the café patrons. It was dimly lighted and not the sensibly way either. But from what I could make out, Debadrita hadn’t arrived (yet?). Then I heard Ritesh start talking and after a while the cue for us to start playing.
“Oh baby I can’t hear you!!
You’ll have to sing harder!
Baby I can’t hear youuuuu!!”
The adrenaline rush I was feeling right then was just about letting me play the drums properly. Which is why I couldn’t see that the crowd wasn’t reacting the way Ritesh had calculated. In retrospect, I think Rahul was the first one who sensed it, which made sense because Ritesh always sings with his eyes closed and face screwed into an image of utmost concentration. Rahul missed a chord first. And then he missed it again. Ritesh, missing his cue, faltered. That’s when the first missile hit him. It was only a bit of cake topping, but it was enough to stop us completely. And then the missiles rained. I got up from behind the drums when I saw Rahul running for cover. It was just another bad decision in the end. My feet got caught up in the cables and I stumbled right in front Ritesh. Something hit me on the head and that’s the last I remember seeing anything of the café.
When I woke up, I was lying on a couch in….Ritesh's place. There was a dull ache in the side of my skull. Touching it, I saw someone had bandaged over a very big swelling. On top of all that, nothing was making any sense.
“So, come around finally, have you?” I heard Ritesh from behind me.
“Damn….what happ—why am I here?!”
“Wow…you know, of all the people I know who’ve had their heads bashed in, you’re the first who asked that question. Okay, now the more important question would be- ‘what went wrong in there?’”
For a few groggy moments I didn’t even realize that he was talking about the gig at the café. Then realization came screaming like a freight train on a cold winter morning.
“Look Ritesh…no offence, but this band thing was on a really short notice…and I just don’t think we were good enough to go out there. And what did they throw at me?! An anvil?!”
“Ah….it was a salt shaker, or a pepper one. One can never be sure about these particulars at such times when one is dodging plates. So you think that with time and practice, our band can excel our present form and then we can go public?”
And then I told him why it would be better for all of us if the band thing didn’t go any forward. With time, the only things that could improve would be the crowd’s aim and choice of projectiles. It wasn’t easy convincing Ritesh to give up the idea, but he saw the reason in my bump on the head.
“Oh well…I suppose we went as far as we could. No money, though. Oh, and did it work out with Debadrita?”
No, it hadn’t. At least I don’t remember seeing her in the crowd.
“Naah… oh well, it was a long shot anyway. Maybe she didn’t get my message…”
“Oh will you forget her now?! She clearly doesn’t have anything for you! You can lie to yourself that she does, but that wouldn’t get you anywhere now, would it? Look, being single right now…it’s the best thing. There’s plenty of others too and with Christmas around the corner we can score with them!”
It was going to be hard to forget her, but Ritesh, Ritesh that he was, hit it on the mark.
“I suppose so…oh well, I gave it my best. Say, what happened to Rahul??”
“Oh, he made it back safe and sound. I just had trouble lugging your carcass through the backdoor. Boy, you are surprisingly heavy. You should start running in the morning, you know.”
On the way back home I lapsed back into my thoughts…thinking about the band…thinking about the gig…about her. I couldn’t kid myself about her anymore. There was nothing and I just had to accept it. At least I had realized that, even if it meant joining a band that had just one performance and even that one cut short by an angry mob and a nasty welt on the head. I felt my phone vibrate.
The display said “YOU HAVE 1 NEW MESSAGE”.
It was from Debadrita. Reading it, I felt everything I had been thinking about go right out the window.
The message read “You’re kiddin, ryt?”
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Education as a Menace
Outline:Chintu is a seventeen year old boy who harbours an ambition to play football for the country.His parents are opposed to this.Ramanuj is a peon at Mr.Raman's office.He gets insulted by Raman's behaviour.Chintu represents the part of India's youth that wants a more challenging life.Ramanuj represents the uneducated class and feels the pain and hurt for being uneducated, mostly at the hands of educated people. His wife wishes that their son,after getting his education, becomes just like Mr.Raman.
Characters:
Chintu-a teenage boy with a passion for football
Chintu's ma-emotional, stressed mother
Chintu's dad/Mr.Raman -angry,gruff, Hitler-ish,EDUCATED.
Ramanuj-peon at Raman's office
Sita-Ramanuj's wife
Ricky-Chintu's classmate,also has a passion for football
SCENE 1
Chintu watchin t.v.
Mom comes in.
Ma:Chintu?did ur teacher give out the marks for ur physics short test ?
Chintu (not taking his eyes off the television) :hmm hmm
Ma :u didn’t tell me … how much did u get ?did u pass ?
Chintu:I sorry ma …. What are we talking about?
Ma:Why..?The test...the Physics test!
Chintu:What about it?
Ma:Thats it!Turn off the tv, right now!
Chintu(doesn't turn it off):Well?What about the test?
Ma:I want to know how much you got in that test.
Chintu:Oh that?I..unnh...didn't give that test.
Ma(livid): what … u bunked a test ??Chintu r u mad … where did u go ?? .. what ….
Chintu:I’m sorry Ma… I had to go to the club trials ….. if I hadn’t gone I wudnt have been playin this whole season.
Ma:okay dis is it , I’m telling ur dad.
Chintu :no Ma no !!!Not him!Of all people, not Hitler himself?! please .. please!
Ma:(numb expression)(in disbelief):how could you not attend the test …. ???
Chintu – trying in vain to expalin
Ma:you just don’t seem to learn !!! , and all u’ve been doing is watching these stupid football matches and wasting ur time on the stupid game !!! this time you need a lesson , I’m telling dad.
Chintu :okay here:(switching off the tv:I’ll start studying right away , I’ll even skip this evenings match .. and I promise I’ll not miss another test no matter what, but please … give me your word that you won't tell dad...
Ma:Not one word from you, young man,before you study for the next test!
SCENE-2
Mr.Raman is in his office
Mr. Dad(on his inter-com):ramanuj , bring me the LNT file , and I want it now.
Old man enters
Ramanuj:sir , give me a minutes time , I just cant find it in the …….
Dad(cuts him short):what do u mean ??? we pay u do do this !!!! u old fool ! get lost and bring me the file or I’ll have u fired !!!
Ramanuj scampers out of the door with a rhetorical regret on his face.
SCENE-3
Ricky and Chintu are at Chintu's house
Ricky:hey relax , never mind we’ll have someone to take ur position today.
Chintu:good , I promise I’ll be playing the nxt match …. ma wants me to study today …. U know these studies … they’ll help me become a doctor .. may be an engineer or perhaps a teacher … but I want to play football for the national team … it’ll never let me achieve dat … and mom n dad they just wont understand how I feel … tell me is it dat difficult for them to understand this ?
Ricky:hey you are not alone …. Remember i had to miss the club trials last year to prepare for the boards ….Felt like running away from home, honestly.
Chintu:yes … hey tell me … wot ARE we doin … getting EDUCATED ?? THIS CANNOT BE EDUCATION !!!….. this way we’ll only end up getting a job someday and perhaps lead a luxurious life …but acheive all that without fun and you start doubting if this life is what you really wanted.
Ricky:hey I don’t know about that but if THEY don’t let me play club football this season I’ll run away … dats for sure …..
Calling bell rings … servant opens the door … dads home !!
Ricky:Shit! you're old man's home, think he'll give me one of those acid looks of his when he sees me coming out of your room?
Chintu:just don't make eye-contact.
SCENE-4
Evening tea is served dad and ma converse over tea
Dad:you know we have these incompetent-
Ricky comes out.Slinking.Trying not to make eye-contact with DAD.
Dad(at Ricku)(demanding):What were you doing there?
Ricky(looking reluctantly at DAD):I was..er...
Dad:Aren't you from Chintu's school?
Ricky:Y-Yes sir.
Dad(angry):Don't you boys have an exam next week?
Ricky:Y-Yes sir.
Dad:Don't go yessir-ing me!Go home and start studying!
Ricky runs
Dad:you know we have these incompetent staff all over our office … there is this old fool ….. cant even get me one file !!!
Ma(distracted, speaking after a moments pause ):why wot happened ?
Mr.Dad:you look disturbed . you tell me what happened ?(Last part in demanding tone)
Ma(holding back tears in her eyes:well …. Its chintu again … he had a physics test yesterday … and he bunked school for a football match.
Dad:what ?! why …. I mean why did’nt you tell me …. CHINTU !!! CHINTU !!!
Chintu comes in, head hung low
Dad:is this true ?
Ma:don’t get excited please ….
Dad:tell me IS THIS TRUE …?!!
Chintu not moving. silent.
Mr.Dad gets up and slaps him on the right cheek and then on the left
A seventeen year boy loses control ….. breaks into tears
Chintu:Why the hell do you keep pushing YOUR ambitions on me ….
Mr.Dad – your ambitions ….. ??? you fool pass this class for a change then talk about it !!!
Chintu:whyy do I need to be the one going to school and giving exams and exams instead of going to practice at the feild?
Dad:Chintu, we've been over this...Don't make me and your mother go over all that again...your football is not something I object against..as long as it remains within limits!You think the world is that easy?Just because you know how to kick the ball, they're going to give you a job for it, just like that?Young man!You have to work and earn!Don't think that I have reached this position in life by playing-
Chintu(interupts,revolting):Its an ambition,dad!To play for the country....and if education means not understanding your son but knowing how to make computers smaller, then I don't need it!
Chintu rushes back into room.
SCENE-5
Ramanuj enters a small room ,Sita,his wife gives him a towel
Ramanuj:is govind asleep yet ?
Sita:yes , he has been running a constant temperature since afternoon.
Ramanuj(pondering over a decision):we will go to the municipal hospital tomorrow morning.
Sita :you look sad ,is anything wrong ?
Ramanuj(vaguely staring into a corner):Tell me my being a simple non-graduate peon … is it a crime ?? does that qualify one for endless insults … does a less educated person in the office or the uneducated poor beggar on Park Street footpath not qualify for basic human courtseys ?
Sita:its mr. raman again , isn’t it ? … I am so sorry …
Ramanuj:please don’t be …perhaps it IS A CRIME … to not being EDUCATED.
Sita:we are atleast doing one thing right …giving our son Govind an EDUCATION !! may be he will someday take become more successful than Mr. Raman … who knows he might take up his place in your office after Mr.Raman retires.Maybe he will have just as many peons working under him...just like Mr.Raman. That will be the happiest day of my life.
The End
Firstly, to you, Rickuda, buddy.God knows where I'd be if you weren't there for me. Owe you one.Secondly, oh well, there's nobody else on the list...just that one guy.
Characters:
Chintu-a teenage boy with a passion for football
Chintu's ma-emotional, stressed mother
Chintu's dad/Mr.Raman -angry,gruff, Hitler-ish,EDUCATED.
Ramanuj-peon at Raman's office
Sita-Ramanuj's wife
Ricky-Chintu's classmate,also has a passion for football
SCENE 1
Chintu watchin t.v.
Mom comes in.
Ma:Chintu?did ur teacher give out the marks for ur physics short test ?
Chintu (not taking his eyes off the television) :hmm hmm
Ma :u didn’t tell me … how much did u get ?did u pass ?
Chintu:I sorry ma …. What are we talking about?
Ma:Why..?The test...the Physics test!
Chintu:What about it?
Ma:Thats it!Turn off the tv, right now!
Chintu(doesn't turn it off):Well?What about the test?
Ma:I want to know how much you got in that test.
Chintu:Oh that?I..unnh...didn't give that test.
Ma(livid): what … u bunked a test ??Chintu r u mad … where did u go ?? .. what ….
Chintu:I’m sorry Ma… I had to go to the club trials ….. if I hadn’t gone I wudnt have been playin this whole season.
Ma:okay dis is it , I’m telling ur dad.
Chintu :no Ma no !!!Not him!Of all people, not Hitler himself?! please .. please!
Ma:(numb expression)(in disbelief):how could you not attend the test …. ???
Chintu – trying in vain to expalin
Ma:you just don’t seem to learn !!! , and all u’ve been doing is watching these stupid football matches and wasting ur time on the stupid game !!! this time you need a lesson , I’m telling dad.
Chintu :okay here:(switching off the tv:I’ll start studying right away , I’ll even skip this evenings match .. and I promise I’ll not miss another test no matter what, but please … give me your word that you won't tell dad...
Ma:Not one word from you, young man,before you study for the next test!
SCENE-2
Mr.Raman is in his office
Mr. Dad(on his inter-com):ramanuj , bring me the LNT file , and I want it now.
Old man enters
Ramanuj:sir , give me a minutes time , I just cant find it in the …….
Dad(cuts him short):what do u mean ??? we pay u do do this !!!! u old fool ! get lost and bring me the file or I’ll have u fired !!!
Ramanuj scampers out of the door with a rhetorical regret on his face.
SCENE-3
Ricky and Chintu are at Chintu's house
Ricky:hey relax , never mind we’ll have someone to take ur position today.
Chintu:good , I promise I’ll be playing the nxt match …. ma wants me to study today …. U know these studies … they’ll help me become a doctor .. may be an engineer or perhaps a teacher … but I want to play football for the national team … it’ll never let me achieve dat … and mom n dad they just wont understand how I feel … tell me is it dat difficult for them to understand this ?
Ricky:hey you are not alone …. Remember i had to miss the club trials last year to prepare for the boards ….Felt like running away from home, honestly.
Chintu:yes … hey tell me … wot ARE we doin … getting EDUCATED ?? THIS CANNOT BE EDUCATION !!!….. this way we’ll only end up getting a job someday and perhaps lead a luxurious life …but acheive all that without fun and you start doubting if this life is what you really wanted.
Ricky:hey I don’t know about that but if THEY don’t let me play club football this season I’ll run away … dats for sure …..
Calling bell rings … servant opens the door … dads home !!
Ricky:Shit! you're old man's home, think he'll give me one of those acid looks of his when he sees me coming out of your room?
Chintu:just don't make eye-contact.
SCENE-4
Evening tea is served dad and ma converse over tea
Dad:you know we have these incompetent-
Ricky comes out.Slinking.Trying not to make eye-contact with DAD.
Dad(at Ricku)(demanding):What were you doing there?
Ricky(looking reluctantly at DAD):I was..er...
Dad:Aren't you from Chintu's school?
Ricky:Y-Yes sir.
Dad(angry):Don't you boys have an exam next week?
Ricky:Y-Yes sir.
Dad:Don't go yessir-ing me!Go home and start studying!
Ricky runs
Dad:you know we have these incompetent staff all over our office … there is this old fool ….. cant even get me one file !!!
Ma(distracted, speaking after a moments pause ):why wot happened ?
Mr.Dad:you look disturbed . you tell me what happened ?(Last part in demanding tone)
Ma(holding back tears in her eyes:well …. Its chintu again … he had a physics test yesterday … and he bunked school for a football match.
Dad:what ?! why …. I mean why did’nt you tell me …. CHINTU !!! CHINTU !!!
Chintu comes in, head hung low
Dad:is this true ?
Ma:don’t get excited please ….
Dad:tell me IS THIS TRUE …?!!
Chintu not moving. silent.
Mr.Dad gets up and slaps him on the right cheek and then on the left
A seventeen year boy loses control ….. breaks into tears
Chintu:Why the hell do you keep pushing YOUR ambitions on me ….
Mr.Dad – your ambitions ….. ??? you fool pass this class for a change then talk about it !!!
Chintu:whyy do I need to be the one going to school and giving exams and exams instead of going to practice at the feild?
Dad:Chintu, we've been over this...Don't make me and your mother go over all that again...your football is not something I object against..as long as it remains within limits!You think the world is that easy?Just because you know how to kick the ball, they're going to give you a job for it, just like that?Young man!You have to work and earn!Don't think that I have reached this position in life by playing-
Chintu(interupts,revolting):Its an ambition,dad!To play for the country....and if education means not understanding your son but knowing how to make computers smaller, then I don't need it!
Chintu rushes back into room.
SCENE-5
Ramanuj enters a small room ,Sita,his wife gives him a towel
Ramanuj:is govind asleep yet ?
Sita:yes , he has been running a constant temperature since afternoon.
Ramanuj(pondering over a decision):we will go to the municipal hospital tomorrow morning.
Sita :you look sad ,is anything wrong ?
Ramanuj(vaguely staring into a corner):Tell me my being a simple non-graduate peon … is it a crime ?? does that qualify one for endless insults … does a less educated person in the office or the uneducated poor beggar on Park Street footpath not qualify for basic human courtseys ?
Sita:its mr. raman again , isn’t it ? … I am so sorry …
Ramanuj:please don’t be …perhaps it IS A CRIME … to not being EDUCATED.
Sita:we are atleast doing one thing right …giving our son Govind an EDUCATION !! may be he will someday take become more successful than Mr. Raman … who knows he might take up his place in your office after Mr.Raman retires.Maybe he will have just as many peons working under him...just like Mr.Raman. That will be the happiest day of my life.
The End
Firstly, to you, Rickuda, buddy.God knows where I'd be if you weren't there for me. Owe you one.Secondly, oh well, there's nobody else on the list...just that one guy.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Sunday, March 30, 2008
The Steal
The place was hot and dusty. But train stations all across rural India tend to look the same and the people never give the stifling heat a second thought. But the heat had become unbearable that day and the station was empty, save a man sweating profusely in his banker’s suit. He had come to the town on business and was waiting for a train back to the city. Unfortunately, he had missed the first train. A two hour wait for the second train at the station seemed unimaginable. But it was the only option that he had. At the end of the second hour, the train rolled in and the banker gladly climbed into a compartment. Even the compartment was almost empty but for a young lad who was dozing off. Almost entirely out of a feeling of loneliness, the banker came up and sat next to him. He decided that the young man beside him could scarcely be above twenty years of age. Deciding against disturbing him, the banker sat in his own place, gazing at the moving countryside.
At the next station, two more people jumped in. They couldn’t look further apart. One was dressed in a shocking orange kurta and pajamas. He had a ready smile on his face despite the fact that he was in the company of strangers. A mole on his right cheek strangely enhanced his friendliness, instead of marring it. The other one was dressed in rather bad taste and his expression wasn’t overwhelming. While the first person literally jumped into his seat, the second one kept his reserve and sat on the edge of the seat, as if not wanting sick to be associated with his present company. Everything under the sun, thought the banker. The man in the orange kurta introduced himself as Nanjundah Bhatt. He claimed to be unemployed, but happy with life since his brother-in-law was taking good care of him. “Of course, such things come with disadvantages...” he said,” my sister wants to put away her jewelry in the city bank and since I’m the lazy man in the house with no work, she decides to send me to the city. What can I do? It’s either her jewels in the locker or me on the streets!” Then as if laughing at his own fate, he let out what seemed to be half a laugh and half a sigh. The banker asked if Nanjundah had a locker at the bank where he worked. When he heard that it wasn’t so, he almost had a resentful feeling towards the jolly man in shocking orange. But deciding to let it go, he introduced himself. The other man who had got on with Nanjundah, realized that he had to fall in with them if he wanted any conversation. He was a certain Mr. Amman Kumar and he was an IT professional who had come to town to catch up with his family. Suddenly, Nanjundah seemed to be groping in his handbag for something. He pulled out a smaller bag, but the banker could tell that it was absolutely stuffed. Nanjundah pulled open the zip and something shiny dazzled everyone in the compartment. “My sister’s jewels” explained Nanjundah, ”There’s so much gold in there that I was getting worried about keeping it safe in our country house…the village subeidar is such a worthless one! So who advised to keep the jewelry in the bank? I did! Fool that I was I didn’t realize that I would be the lucky one who would be given the honour of carrying the stuff to the city in this heat!” Swearing loudly, he spat on the train floor. The last one in the group was still sleeping. “I feel it is best that we don’t disturb this man and move to the next compartment. After all, there’s plenty of room.” suggested Nanjundah.
As the other three strangers slowly got accustomed to each other, their conversation got more fluid and the least bit of condescension crept away. Conversation turned to the mundane topics of politics and cricket and any difference in opinion was heatedly defended by each member. The three even had lunch and dinner together. As the day drew to a close, merry talk turned into unintelligible mutterings punctuated by stifled yawns. By mutual consent, everyone decided to turn in for the night. The banker remembered hearing Nanjundah humming a tune as he fell as asleep.
He was dreaming about selling new policy ideas when he heard the scream. Never a heavy sleeper because of the perpetual business worries, the banker woke up at the slightest sounds. It took him a few groggy moments to realize that the scream was coming from Nanjundah’s berth. As he climbed down from his own berth hurriedly, he missed a rung and hurt his shin. Uttering a mild curse, he headed towards Nanjundah’s berth to see what the commotion was about. Looking out of the murky windows, he saw that it was still dark outside. Reaching the epicenter of the commotion, he saw that Amman was already there trying to make sense of what had given the man such a bad shock. It took a lot of time to gather the truth. In half bursts and moans Nanjundah explained that he realized that he was missing his hand bag when he had gone to the toilet. The truth was hard. The jewelry was stolen. Even before he went to check up on the young man who had remained aloof from their group the last day, he knew what he was going to find. The man wasn’t there. Nanjundah let out a tearing wail.
A week later, as Nitesh lay on the couch, he decided that it had been a good haul that night on the train. On his finger was a gold ring, catching a glint of the setting sun, a frozen essence of a life that could never be his own.
At the next station, two more people jumped in. They couldn’t look further apart. One was dressed in a shocking orange kurta and pajamas. He had a ready smile on his face despite the fact that he was in the company of strangers. A mole on his right cheek strangely enhanced his friendliness, instead of marring it. The other one was dressed in rather bad taste and his expression wasn’t overwhelming. While the first person literally jumped into his seat, the second one kept his reserve and sat on the edge of the seat, as if not wanting sick to be associated with his present company. Everything under the sun, thought the banker. The man in the orange kurta introduced himself as Nanjundah Bhatt. He claimed to be unemployed, but happy with life since his brother-in-law was taking good care of him. “Of course, such things come with disadvantages...” he said,” my sister wants to put away her jewelry in the city bank and since I’m the lazy man in the house with no work, she decides to send me to the city. What can I do? It’s either her jewels in the locker or me on the streets!” Then as if laughing at his own fate, he let out what seemed to be half a laugh and half a sigh. The banker asked if Nanjundah had a locker at the bank where he worked. When he heard that it wasn’t so, he almost had a resentful feeling towards the jolly man in shocking orange. But deciding to let it go, he introduced himself. The other man who had got on with Nanjundah, realized that he had to fall in with them if he wanted any conversation. He was a certain Mr. Amman Kumar and he was an IT professional who had come to town to catch up with his family. Suddenly, Nanjundah seemed to be groping in his handbag for something. He pulled out a smaller bag, but the banker could tell that it was absolutely stuffed. Nanjundah pulled open the zip and something shiny dazzled everyone in the compartment. “My sister’s jewels” explained Nanjundah, ”There’s so much gold in there that I was getting worried about keeping it safe in our country house…the village subeidar is such a worthless one! So who advised to keep the jewelry in the bank? I did! Fool that I was I didn’t realize that I would be the lucky one who would be given the honour of carrying the stuff to the city in this heat!” Swearing loudly, he spat on the train floor. The last one in the group was still sleeping. “I feel it is best that we don’t disturb this man and move to the next compartment. After all, there’s plenty of room.” suggested Nanjundah.
As the other three strangers slowly got accustomed to each other, their conversation got more fluid and the least bit of condescension crept away. Conversation turned to the mundane topics of politics and cricket and any difference in opinion was heatedly defended by each member. The three even had lunch and dinner together. As the day drew to a close, merry talk turned into unintelligible mutterings punctuated by stifled yawns. By mutual consent, everyone decided to turn in for the night. The banker remembered hearing Nanjundah humming a tune as he fell as asleep.
He was dreaming about selling new policy ideas when he heard the scream. Never a heavy sleeper because of the perpetual business worries, the banker woke up at the slightest sounds. It took him a few groggy moments to realize that the scream was coming from Nanjundah’s berth. As he climbed down from his own berth hurriedly, he missed a rung and hurt his shin. Uttering a mild curse, he headed towards Nanjundah’s berth to see what the commotion was about. Looking out of the murky windows, he saw that it was still dark outside. Reaching the epicenter of the commotion, he saw that Amman was already there trying to make sense of what had given the man such a bad shock. It took a lot of time to gather the truth. In half bursts and moans Nanjundah explained that he realized that he was missing his hand bag when he had gone to the toilet. The truth was hard. The jewelry was stolen. Even before he went to check up on the young man who had remained aloof from their group the last day, he knew what he was going to find. The man wasn’t there. Nanjundah let out a tearing wail.
A week later, as Nitesh lay on the couch, he decided that it had been a good haul that night on the train. On his finger was a gold ring, catching a glint of the setting sun, a frozen essence of a life that could never be his own.
Monday, February 25, 2008
And there are those who somehow make it(Complete)
NOTE: I can only apologize that I had kept this story incomplete for over six months. But, as with most other stories, I couldn’t come up with a proper ending. If the second part seems as if someone else wrote it, well all I can say is that it was a different me who finished this piece of whatever I think it is. There’s another point. I had never intended to end the story in this manner, and as a result, I’ve had to turn the title a complete 180. But I hope you enjoy it anyway.
-------------------------
I'd be dashed if it didn't turn out to be a cracker.When Ritesh says its a cracker it is.Not for once in our long years of friendship did I get the chance to accuse him of having done injustice of the slightest sort to words like 'cracker','wheezer' and 'the ultimate dash'.So imagine my pleasant surprise when Ritesh called me up this morning and said,"Absolute cracker at 6,what say?"
Adrenaline pumping stuff.
Of course,crackers at 6 come with pricetags.Price tags like missing physics classes.But the break in the rule wasn't entirely unwelcome.On the contrary,any reason to avoid physics classes are most welcome.So at quarter to 6,there I was,standing at the corner waiting for Ritesh to give me a pickup.I was running the list of all the rock concerts going on right then.I spotted his car making a turn.Have you ever had the tingling feeling spreading across your skin when you know something really really(I mean..you can never over-emphasize)good is coming at you at 60 miles an hour?
Now,I feel it is the best to describe Ritesh now so that the reader can share my view at the end of the story.To say that he was(I said was,mind you) an absolutely reckless boy would be an understatement.Rash,was how the parents was how the parents described him.To us,he was a Norse-god.I wasn't without my own li'l frenchcut-goatee.But his was on an entirely different level,James Hetfeild.His outlook was "Frown at me and be damned."He would love to wear a sleeveless on the coldest day of the year.Walking down the street in that,he never failed to draw looks of astonishment,shock and admiration alike.But he remained oblivious to all that.He once told me,"The moment you start noticing the people looking at you, you start feeling the chill."Nevertheless,Norse gods come with limitations themselves.Ritesh is never a success with girls(they always got frustrated with his non-committed nature).What he doesn't know about chemistry can fill up an entire library.
Cutting to the chase,Ritesh brought the car to a halt in a remarkable manner considering that he had been openly flouting the speedlimit.All that was very normal for Ritesh.But I got my first shock for the night as I got inside the car.An overpowering smell nearly knocked me out.Smelled like a tropical forest inside the car."Egad!What is that smell?!",I asked ,getting my breath back after lowering the window.Turning at Ritesh I got my second shock of the night.Gone was the Hetfeild look.So was the punk tee.Sitting at the wheel was something that my mother would kiss and call an ideal boy.Hair plastered across the forehead,he was looking at me with shock on his own face.
"Ritesh!"
"Wrik!"
"The goatee!"
"The shirt!"
This last comment forced me to take a look at my shirt.I saw a handpainted gesture that my mother would have raised objection against.Fine,fine,there was something on the back too.But with the original Ritesh around,the good old shirt would have reminded you of civilisation.Of course,this new good-boy version was wrapped up in a suit. Somehow,I never imagined Ritesh in a suit.After we got over our initial shock,I saw him look at me with distinct dissaproval.This hurt me...and to think that we were friends.He got the car moving.Conversation had died an unspectacular death a long time ago.As the polluted city air blew through my hair,I suddenly remembered the horrific smell that had greeted me when I had entered the car.
"Ritesh,whats that smell hanging around your side of the car?",I asked mildly.
"Huh?Oh,you mean the perfume?You like it?"
"Oh sure..how much did you use?The entire bottle?"
I caught a frown playing beautifully with his brows.Come to think of it,it had been there for as long as I had seen him that evening.I could see a struggling look on his face as he negotiated a turn.He was trying to say something.That much I could gather from the way his mouth kept opening and closing like some sick fish in an aquarium.
"Wrik,I gotta tell you something",he said,after having done the perfect imitation of the fish-on-its-death-bed.
"Shoot"
"Remember all those times when I told you that I didn't give a damn about what a girl about me when we broke up?"
I could see he wasn't wasting any time beating around the bush."Well,I've met this girl and...and...well,I just don't want her to leave me."The last part came out in a rush.
Woman trouble.I should have known.I mean,don't get me wrong.I am happily falling in love with girls of all sorts,even those older than me by a couple of years.But the serious commitment isn't my cup of tea.I mean,to give each other reasonable time is a good idea, but to be absolutely besotted isn't my idea of love,much less Ritesh's.I could see that the evening wasn't short of surprises.After what seemed an eternity,he spoke again,"I'm taking her on a date tonight,at Leopold's."Perfect setup.Leopold's was the perfect place to woo,or so one of my friends had said.But a thought brought the entire sequence in my mind to a screeching halt.
"Ritesh,if you're taking her on a date, then why exactly am I tagging along?"
"Because,chum,I don't want it to look like a date.She's a very shy girl and the first inkling she gets of this being a date,she might call it quits.Thats why you're tagging along."
I couldn't quite follow his line of thought.The only thing that could stop her from feeling that she was going on a date would be to hope that she was blind.Of course,Ritesh wouldn't love her if she was blind.But good man that I was,I asked,"You sure I won't hinder you two?"
"Quite the contrary.You were goofing on the streets and I just happened to run into you and, hence,I picked you up."
"But I wasn't-----ah,you're going to fib in front of her",I said as the cogs up there made an arduous rotatation.But this wasn't making any sense.Ritesh was going to make me sound like a loafer of the finest degrees and even by my limited knowledge of girls,I doubted that would of too much help.Of course,I wasn't going to upset the poor fish by saying all this.There was enormous pressure on his un-enviable brain already.
I could see that we were about to reach the exalted Leopold's any second now.I tried to straighten my hair but soon gave it up as hopeless.If the principal of my school threatning me with suspension wasn't able to flatten the tropical forest clinging to my skull, what did I care about pissing off some girl I didn't even know?
Leopold jutted out from the rest of the block by a mile.I've always wondered why they made it like that.I really don't have the answer to that.Maybe they built it like that so that you could see it coming from a mile out and feel that there was always enough time to pull the brakes till you pass right by it.I'm not too sure if that happens to everyone, but Ritesh was clearly a specimen suffering from the 'there's-enough-time-to-pull-the-brakes' syndrome..and guess what?Yes, we passed right by it.We had to come back in reverse and imagine my chagrin when I had to step out of the car.Ritesh was of course the picture of indifference, more so today, to the world minus his girl.Miraculously, no one seemed too intereseted in our comic entry.Turning to my side, I caught Ritesh standing on his toes and scanning the place for something.He wasn't really tall and standing on his toes wasn't helping him too much.Even I had a solid two inches on him.Just as I was going to remind him of the fact, he seemed to jump three feet into the air as if he had been living on rocket propellants for a week.He was waving frantically at someone. Following his eyes I caught sight of a rather pretty girl."Thar she blows...".I muttered to myself.Ritesh practically dragged me along to meet her."Sweta...I'd like you to meet my friend Wrik.He's..um...a very..good friend of mine. He was dying to meet you and..um..so I brought him along today.I hope you don't mind?"She waved it aside."Wrik,I'd like you to meet Sweta, the most wonderful girl I've ever met."
I'll bet she was if she could inspire him to take a shower in perfume.
As we walked into the resturant foyer, I muttered to Ritesh,"What the hell happened to the wrik-was-loafing-the-street idea?"
"Moment's inspiration."
We walked up to the reception counter.The concierge was a sleek man with a thin moustache.Ritesh tentatively walked up to him and said,"We have a reservation...Mr.Ritesh Mukherjee?"
"Ah yes,Mr.Mukherjee.Table for three..our waiter here will show you the way to your table."
Now,all this while,this concierge was giving me very distasteful looks. As the waiter was guiding us into the main hall,I realized why.
"One moment,sir.I'm afraid your shirt is not permissable inside the resturant."
Guess who was he talking to?Yep, me.Now this complicated things.Ritesh was turning a deep shade of beetroot red.Chagrine?Anger?Take your pick.
"Look, its just a shirt..it won't bite anyone.",I countered.
"I'm sorry sir. It is customary that you wear a suit to Leopold's."
Ritesh took me by my elbow and walked me a couple of feet from the scene.
"Okay bud,that shirt has got to go.",he said.
"But how am I supposed to walk in?I'm not Salman Khan!"
"Okay okay!There's a garments shop right on the other side of the street.Get yourself a shirt and a suit.You'll get a free dinner!"
As I walked out, I turned to find a smug look on the concierge's face.Sure, he'd won the battle.
Inside the garments store, I was lost. The rows of suits and shirts seemed never-ending. I was having second thoughts. Just as I was about to turn back, a voice right behind me spoke out and scared me so bad that for a moment I thought I must have beaten Ritesh in the high jump record. Shaking, I looked behind. It turned out to be one of those blighted folks who hang around garment shops with measuring tapes around their neck. But you could never trust these people completely. They'll take crappy measurements if they take a strange spiteful attitude towards you.
"I said, can I help you sir?", he said, pretty harmlessly, I have to admit. With a smile, even.
"Sure...do you um..have teeshirts?" Even as I asked it, I knew it was a dumb question.
"Yes..as you can see..we have quite a few shirts. Could be a little more specific about your desired shirt?"
My desired shirt was the one that would let me into the resturant. But sensing that it would not do to be so cheeky to this man, I said," I dunno...I'm supposed to be be at this place that wants you in a formal shirt...oh yeah,I need a suit too."
"Then may I suggest a forget-me-not blue shirt?Makes a good first impression."
"Cool with me...what about the suit?"
"In a moment and all in good time."
It really took a moment. I mean, one moment he was gone to get the shirt, the next,pop, he's back..yes,with the shirt. As I tried on the shirt, I had to say..it looked good.
"Most appealing ,sir" the guy-with-the-measuring-tape said.
"Cool..now the suit."
"Ah yes...but first we need specific measurements." Saying which, he took out the measuring tape and started measuring all sorts of stuff. All of this was taking too long.
"Step on it!"
"All in good time."
"What do you need to measure my waist for?"
"It helps in selecting the suit,sir."
Then making a few more measurements, which were really unnecessary in my opinion, he went off to get my suit. A couple of minutes later, he came back with a dark suit.
"That black?",I asked.
"No..this is navy-blue. This is black",he went off to get another suit.
I couldn't waste anymore time in this three-ring circus.
"Okay..okay..I'll take your word for it."
I donned the suit and was about to dash out when the man said,"One moment sir, aren't you forgetting something?"
"Oooh man.....now what?Spit it out!"
"The bill,sir."
Okay,okay fine. I paid for it and ran across the street and I was in the resturant in under thirty seconds.
"Free diner, here I come." I muttered.
At the counter, the concierge gave me a fleeting glance. But as I was about to enter the hall, I realised he wasn't going to play easy.
"One moment sir. Do you have a reservation?"
"Reservation?!! Whoa whoa whoa! I just came here half an hour ago...remember???"
"Lets try that again, shall we? Now, do you have a reservation?" That sick smile was still on his face.
My dinner was getting cold, assuming Ritesh had the sense to order for me by now. I couldn't waste any time.
"Okay..no..I don't have a reservation. But my friend does. Ritesh Mukherjee. He's probably waiting for me."
"Ah yes...Mr.Mukherjee. Please go inside. I hope you can find your friend?"
"I got eyes." Saying that I dashed into the hall. It hardly took a second to locate Ritesh and whats-her-name cosing it up nicely.
Sliding into my chair I heard Sweta agreeing with Ritesh on something. On exactly what, I had no idea. But if they agreed on it, full marks to Ritesh for having gone for it.
“You look great in that shirt! Why couldn’t I get one in that shade?” remarked Ritesh, waving the soup spoon at me. His Stranger at the Table act was getting hard to cope up with.
“Um...well, you…uhh…did you order soup for me?”
Quite honestly, it had escaped my attention that I should have thought up some lines for this one-act play. But the soup line always got you room.
“Well, Sweta did.”
“Ah, I ordered clear water asparagus soup for you. Is that okay?” Sweta asked.
“Quite quite…topping!”
Conversation was jerky at best with Ritesh making a brave attempt at starting about all the topics he knew about. He was over with the starters (do you like dogs?) when my soup arrived. Now, the clear water asparagus soup belongs to that species of soups that have funny things floating in the clear water that the doctors keep advising you to stuff the refrigerator with. If I’d known that the clear water asparagus soup belonged to this strain, I would have jolly well got up and asked the chef to leave the asparagus part and give me the rest of it in a bottle. Just as I wondering if I might have to dredge the bottom the bowl to get to the part that the better part of the human population called “clear water”, I caught a very loud “My boy!” I shut my eyes, waiting for disaster.
As I later gathered, Sweta was the only one in our party who had bothered to turn to the source of the rotten “My boy!” Ritesh had somehow managed to choke on his soup spoon. At least Sweta didn’t see that. At this point it is best to explain why that very loud “My boy!” caused the males in our party to shut our eyes and get choked with soup spoons. The source of that very loud “My boy!” was known to us by the name Ricky. Ricky was an infliction on us by way of being a childhood friend. If Ritesh was known to be reckless, Ricky was known for giving friends wedgies by way of birthday presents and touching you for a tenner irrespective of which day of which month. He had gained much renown for having been slung out by his ear from five pubs on the same New Year’s night by the ear for unruly behaviour. He also had a slightly trying way of addressing everyone, irrespective of age, colour and creed by the feudal title of “my boy” This very terror was in the vicinity.
Turning, I found Ricky coming straight at us, causing waiters and tables to clear out of the way. How on earth he had landed in a suit failed my already tired and groaning mind. Glancing at Ritesh, I found him turning a nasty shade of green. Sweta was still looking at Ricky home in on us.
He sidled into the empty chair at our table, all the while giving me and Ritesh the well-well-well smile. I made it a mental note to take it up with the hotel management as to why there was a fourth chair at a table for three. But for the moment, I could sense that I would have to come up with a plan worthy to be called a corker by Caesar. Ricky got the ball rolling.
“Well, well, well my boys! Fancy finding you two here!” said he.
I had stumbled, but Ritesh kept it going.
“Yes… Ricky, I don’t think you’ve met Sweta?” he managed.
“Oh, no…I haven’t. But better late than never, that’s what I say! What?” Ricky replied.
“Y-Yes…nice to meet you.” Sweta said. I knew that was about to change.
“Nice to meet you too,” said Ricky now turning to Ritesh, “so she’s your new one? Oww!”
The kick under the table was the subtlest thing I could manage under the circumstances, but the damage wasn’t completely averted. I could see the first signs of a displeasure appearing on Sweta’s face.
“What was that for, you mutt-head?!” Ricky said to me.
“Oh…um, I think I’ve got the umm…on my leg.” I countered pretty lamely.
“Well, you better get the umm out of your leg or there’s going to be a nasty one on the face!”
This wasn’t going entirely according to plan. It would take more than a kick under the table to make Ricky see light.
“So Ritesh, dude, Sweta’s your steady for the moment, eh?” The guy was on a roll now. Point in case: Sweta was definitely getting red around the higher contours of her face.
Still in no mood to stop he continued, “But I’d say Pooja was better looking. Dumb, sure. But that was a hot one- okay that’s it, you dung beetle, what on earth are you kicking me for?!”
If seeing Ritesh score once with a girl he obviously cared so much about meant me taking one, I was damned if I let Ritesh down. But Ritesh had other plans. I could see that he was in one of his Brutus-like conflicts again, but he was making more progress than the Roman.
“Ricky, if you wouldn’t mind, could I see you in the restroom for a minute?” he said.
“Well, my boy, you can see me right here. I’m sure Wrik can mange what you have to say!”
“Yes, well you see, there’s also Sweta and I’m not so su -”
“Oh save it up for later then! I think me and Sweta should get to know each other a bit. What say?” Evidently, the ill-effects of Ricky were starting to tell on Sweta when she dropped her spoon on hearing Ricky’s words.
“Oh? I-I’m sure we c-could do this s-some other time…”she had started. But Ricky was a hard man to cut down.
“Pshaw! The night is young and you’re almost pretty-”
“That’s it Ricky, out you go!” Ritesh had had enough. Now Ricky was confused. Now he was starting to see light. Well, almost.
“What? What’d I do?!”
“I don’t care what you did, darn it! I jus want you ten miles away from us at the moment!”
“Oh I see what’s going on here. You think I’m not good enough for-”
We never got to hear what Ricky had to say. An orderly had come up to our table and had witnessed the scene for the last couple of minutes.
“I’m sorry sir, but the Leopold does not require this sort of behaviour. I have to ask you to leave.”
“Oh, this gentleman was about to leave our table,” I started pointing at Ricky, “so, umm…I’m sure we could-”
“I’m sorry sir. But the entire company has to leave. Your bill is here.”
And with that he was off. Ricky got up and gave us both very nasty looks. It was just me, Ritesh and Sweta now. She looked rattled. Well, we had to leave the place right then. It was getting pretty late anyway.
As Ritesh was hauling for a taxi, he looked really forlorn. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the chap. His entire evening had gone haywire.
“Sweta, I’m really sorry that the evening had to-”
She kissed him gently on the cheek and said “So we need to go out some other time again. I’m sure Wrik could manage some time. Well, my taxi’s here. Bye.”
I remember having driven Ritesh home that night.
-------------------------
I'd be dashed if it didn't turn out to be a cracker.When Ritesh says its a cracker it is.Not for once in our long years of friendship did I get the chance to accuse him of having done injustice of the slightest sort to words like 'cracker','wheezer' and 'the ultimate dash'.So imagine my pleasant surprise when Ritesh called me up this morning and said,"Absolute cracker at 6,what say?"
Adrenaline pumping stuff.
Of course,crackers at 6 come with pricetags.Price tags like missing physics classes.But the break in the rule wasn't entirely unwelcome.On the contrary,any reason to avoid physics classes are most welcome.So at quarter to 6,there I was,standing at the corner waiting for Ritesh to give me a pickup.I was running the list of all the rock concerts going on right then.I spotted his car making a turn.Have you ever had the tingling feeling spreading across your skin when you know something really really(I mean..you can never over-emphasize)good is coming at you at 60 miles an hour?
Now,I feel it is the best to describe Ritesh now so that the reader can share my view at the end of the story.To say that he was(I said was,mind you) an absolutely reckless boy would be an understatement.Rash,was how the parents was how the parents described him.To us,he was a Norse-god.I wasn't without my own li'l frenchcut-goatee.But his was on an entirely different level,James Hetfeild.His outlook was "Frown at me and be damned."He would love to wear a sleeveless on the coldest day of the year.Walking down the street in that,he never failed to draw looks of astonishment,shock and admiration alike.But he remained oblivious to all that.He once told me,"The moment you start noticing the people looking at you, you start feeling the chill."Nevertheless,Norse gods come with limitations themselves.Ritesh is never a success with girls(they always got frustrated with his non-committed nature).What he doesn't know about chemistry can fill up an entire library.
Cutting to the chase,Ritesh brought the car to a halt in a remarkable manner considering that he had been openly flouting the speedlimit.All that was very normal for Ritesh.But I got my first shock for the night as I got inside the car.An overpowering smell nearly knocked me out.Smelled like a tropical forest inside the car."Egad!What is that smell?!",I asked ,getting my breath back after lowering the window.Turning at Ritesh I got my second shock of the night.Gone was the Hetfeild look.So was the punk tee.Sitting at the wheel was something that my mother would kiss and call an ideal boy.Hair plastered across the forehead,he was looking at me with shock on his own face.
"Ritesh!"
"Wrik!"
"The goatee!"
"The shirt!"
This last comment forced me to take a look at my shirt.I saw a handpainted gesture that my mother would have raised objection against.Fine,fine,there was something on the back too.But with the original Ritesh around,the good old shirt would have reminded you of civilisation.Of course,this new good-boy version was wrapped up in a suit. Somehow,I never imagined Ritesh in a suit.After we got over our initial shock,I saw him look at me with distinct dissaproval.This hurt me...and to think that we were friends.He got the car moving.Conversation had died an unspectacular death a long time ago.As the polluted city air blew through my hair,I suddenly remembered the horrific smell that had greeted me when I had entered the car.
"Ritesh,whats that smell hanging around your side of the car?",I asked mildly.
"Huh?Oh,you mean the perfume?You like it?"
"Oh sure..how much did you use?The entire bottle?"
I caught a frown playing beautifully with his brows.Come to think of it,it had been there for as long as I had seen him that evening.I could see a struggling look on his face as he negotiated a turn.He was trying to say something.That much I could gather from the way his mouth kept opening and closing like some sick fish in an aquarium.
"Wrik,I gotta tell you something",he said,after having done the perfect imitation of the fish-on-its-death-bed.
"Shoot"
"Remember all those times when I told you that I didn't give a damn about what a girl about me when we broke up?"
I could see he wasn't wasting any time beating around the bush."Well,I've met this girl and...and...well,I just don't want her to leave me."The last part came out in a rush.
Woman trouble.I should have known.I mean,don't get me wrong.I am happily falling in love with girls of all sorts,even those older than me by a couple of years.But the serious commitment isn't my cup of tea.I mean,to give each other reasonable time is a good idea, but to be absolutely besotted isn't my idea of love,much less Ritesh's.I could see that the evening wasn't short of surprises.After what seemed an eternity,he spoke again,"I'm taking her on a date tonight,at Leopold's."Perfect setup.Leopold's was the perfect place to woo,or so one of my friends had said.But a thought brought the entire sequence in my mind to a screeching halt.
"Ritesh,if you're taking her on a date, then why exactly am I tagging along?"
"Because,chum,I don't want it to look like a date.She's a very shy girl and the first inkling she gets of this being a date,she might call it quits.Thats why you're tagging along."
I couldn't quite follow his line of thought.The only thing that could stop her from feeling that she was going on a date would be to hope that she was blind.Of course,Ritesh wouldn't love her if she was blind.But good man that I was,I asked,"You sure I won't hinder you two?"
"Quite the contrary.You were goofing on the streets and I just happened to run into you and, hence,I picked you up."
"But I wasn't-----ah,you're going to fib in front of her",I said as the cogs up there made an arduous rotatation.But this wasn't making any sense.Ritesh was going to make me sound like a loafer of the finest degrees and even by my limited knowledge of girls,I doubted that would of too much help.Of course,I wasn't going to upset the poor fish by saying all this.There was enormous pressure on his un-enviable brain already.
I could see that we were about to reach the exalted Leopold's any second now.I tried to straighten my hair but soon gave it up as hopeless.If the principal of my school threatning me with suspension wasn't able to flatten the tropical forest clinging to my skull, what did I care about pissing off some girl I didn't even know?
Leopold jutted out from the rest of the block by a mile.I've always wondered why they made it like that.I really don't have the answer to that.Maybe they built it like that so that you could see it coming from a mile out and feel that there was always enough time to pull the brakes till you pass right by it.I'm not too sure if that happens to everyone, but Ritesh was clearly a specimen suffering from the 'there's-enough-time-to-pull-the-brakes' syndrome..and guess what?Yes, we passed right by it.We had to come back in reverse and imagine my chagrin when I had to step out of the car.Ritesh was of course the picture of indifference, more so today, to the world minus his girl.Miraculously, no one seemed too intereseted in our comic entry.Turning to my side, I caught Ritesh standing on his toes and scanning the place for something.He wasn't really tall and standing on his toes wasn't helping him too much.Even I had a solid two inches on him.Just as I was going to remind him of the fact, he seemed to jump three feet into the air as if he had been living on rocket propellants for a week.He was waving frantically at someone. Following his eyes I caught sight of a rather pretty girl."Thar she blows...".I muttered to myself.Ritesh practically dragged me along to meet her."Sweta...I'd like you to meet my friend Wrik.He's..um...a very..good friend of mine. He was dying to meet you and..um..so I brought him along today.I hope you don't mind?"She waved it aside."Wrik,I'd like you to meet Sweta, the most wonderful girl I've ever met."
I'll bet she was if she could inspire him to take a shower in perfume.
As we walked into the resturant foyer, I muttered to Ritesh,"What the hell happened to the wrik-was-loafing-the-street idea?"
"Moment's inspiration."
We walked up to the reception counter.The concierge was a sleek man with a thin moustache.Ritesh tentatively walked up to him and said,"We have a reservation...Mr.Ritesh Mukherjee?"
"Ah yes,Mr.Mukherjee.Table for three..our waiter here will show you the way to your table."
Now,all this while,this concierge was giving me very distasteful looks. As the waiter was guiding us into the main hall,I realized why.
"One moment,sir.I'm afraid your shirt is not permissable inside the resturant."
Guess who was he talking to?Yep, me.Now this complicated things.Ritesh was turning a deep shade of beetroot red.Chagrine?Anger?Take your pick.
"Look, its just a shirt..it won't bite anyone.",I countered.
"I'm sorry sir. It is customary that you wear a suit to Leopold's."
Ritesh took me by my elbow and walked me a couple of feet from the scene.
"Okay bud,that shirt has got to go.",he said.
"But how am I supposed to walk in?I'm not Salman Khan!"
"Okay okay!There's a garments shop right on the other side of the street.Get yourself a shirt and a suit.You'll get a free dinner!"
As I walked out, I turned to find a smug look on the concierge's face.Sure, he'd won the battle.
Inside the garments store, I was lost. The rows of suits and shirts seemed never-ending. I was having second thoughts. Just as I was about to turn back, a voice right behind me spoke out and scared me so bad that for a moment I thought I must have beaten Ritesh in the high jump record. Shaking, I looked behind. It turned out to be one of those blighted folks who hang around garment shops with measuring tapes around their neck. But you could never trust these people completely. They'll take crappy measurements if they take a strange spiteful attitude towards you.
"I said, can I help you sir?", he said, pretty harmlessly, I have to admit. With a smile, even.
"Sure...do you um..have teeshirts?" Even as I asked it, I knew it was a dumb question.
"Yes..as you can see..we have quite a few shirts. Could be a little more specific about your desired shirt?"
My desired shirt was the one that would let me into the resturant. But sensing that it would not do to be so cheeky to this man, I said," I dunno...I'm supposed to be be at this place that wants you in a formal shirt...oh yeah,I need a suit too."
"Then may I suggest a forget-me-not blue shirt?Makes a good first impression."
"Cool with me...what about the suit?"
"In a moment and all in good time."
It really took a moment. I mean, one moment he was gone to get the shirt, the next,pop, he's back..yes,with the shirt. As I tried on the shirt, I had to say..it looked good.
"Most appealing ,sir" the guy-with-the-measuring-tape said.
"Cool..now the suit."
"Ah yes...but first we need specific measurements." Saying which, he took out the measuring tape and started measuring all sorts of stuff. All of this was taking too long.
"Step on it!"
"All in good time."
"What do you need to measure my waist for?"
"It helps in selecting the suit,sir."
Then making a few more measurements, which were really unnecessary in my opinion, he went off to get my suit. A couple of minutes later, he came back with a dark suit.
"That black?",I asked.
"No..this is navy-blue. This is black",he went off to get another suit.
I couldn't waste anymore time in this three-ring circus.
"Okay..okay..I'll take your word for it."
I donned the suit and was about to dash out when the man said,"One moment sir, aren't you forgetting something?"
"Oooh man.....now what?Spit it out!"
"The bill,sir."
Okay,okay fine. I paid for it and ran across the street and I was in the resturant in under thirty seconds.
"Free diner, here I come." I muttered.
At the counter, the concierge gave me a fleeting glance. But as I was about to enter the hall, I realised he wasn't going to play easy.
"One moment sir. Do you have a reservation?"
"Reservation?!! Whoa whoa whoa! I just came here half an hour ago...remember???"
"Lets try that again, shall we? Now, do you have a reservation?" That sick smile was still on his face.
My dinner was getting cold, assuming Ritesh had the sense to order for me by now. I couldn't waste any time.
"Okay..no..I don't have a reservation. But my friend does. Ritesh Mukherjee. He's probably waiting for me."
"Ah yes...Mr.Mukherjee. Please go inside. I hope you can find your friend?"
"I got eyes." Saying that I dashed into the hall. It hardly took a second to locate Ritesh and whats-her-name cosing it up nicely.
Sliding into my chair I heard Sweta agreeing with Ritesh on something. On exactly what, I had no idea. But if they agreed on it, full marks to Ritesh for having gone for it.
“You look great in that shirt! Why couldn’t I get one in that shade?” remarked Ritesh, waving the soup spoon at me. His Stranger at the Table act was getting hard to cope up with.
“Um...well, you…uhh…did you order soup for me?”
Quite honestly, it had escaped my attention that I should have thought up some lines for this one-act play. But the soup line always got you room.
“Well, Sweta did.”
“Ah, I ordered clear water asparagus soup for you. Is that okay?” Sweta asked.
“Quite quite…topping!”
Conversation was jerky at best with Ritesh making a brave attempt at starting about all the topics he knew about. He was over with the starters (do you like dogs?) when my soup arrived. Now, the clear water asparagus soup belongs to that species of soups that have funny things floating in the clear water that the doctors keep advising you to stuff the refrigerator with. If I’d known that the clear water asparagus soup belonged to this strain, I would have jolly well got up and asked the chef to leave the asparagus part and give me the rest of it in a bottle. Just as I wondering if I might have to dredge the bottom the bowl to get to the part that the better part of the human population called “clear water”, I caught a very loud “My boy!” I shut my eyes, waiting for disaster.
As I later gathered, Sweta was the only one in our party who had bothered to turn to the source of the rotten “My boy!” Ritesh had somehow managed to choke on his soup spoon. At least Sweta didn’t see that. At this point it is best to explain why that very loud “My boy!” caused the males in our party to shut our eyes and get choked with soup spoons. The source of that very loud “My boy!” was known to us by the name Ricky. Ricky was an infliction on us by way of being a childhood friend. If Ritesh was known to be reckless, Ricky was known for giving friends wedgies by way of birthday presents and touching you for a tenner irrespective of which day of which month. He had gained much renown for having been slung out by his ear from five pubs on the same New Year’s night by the ear for unruly behaviour. He also had a slightly trying way of addressing everyone, irrespective of age, colour and creed by the feudal title of “my boy” This very terror was in the vicinity.
Turning, I found Ricky coming straight at us, causing waiters and tables to clear out of the way. How on earth he had landed in a suit failed my already tired and groaning mind. Glancing at Ritesh, I found him turning a nasty shade of green. Sweta was still looking at Ricky home in on us.
He sidled into the empty chair at our table, all the while giving me and Ritesh the well-well-well smile. I made it a mental note to take it up with the hotel management as to why there was a fourth chair at a table for three. But for the moment, I could sense that I would have to come up with a plan worthy to be called a corker by Caesar. Ricky got the ball rolling.
“Well, well, well my boys! Fancy finding you two here!” said he.
I had stumbled, but Ritesh kept it going.
“Yes… Ricky, I don’t think you’ve met Sweta?” he managed.
“Oh, no…I haven’t. But better late than never, that’s what I say! What?” Ricky replied.
“Y-Yes…nice to meet you.” Sweta said. I knew that was about to change.
“Nice to meet you too,” said Ricky now turning to Ritesh, “so she’s your new one? Oww!”
The kick under the table was the subtlest thing I could manage under the circumstances, but the damage wasn’t completely averted. I could see the first signs of a displeasure appearing on Sweta’s face.
“What was that for, you mutt-head?!” Ricky said to me.
“Oh…um, I think I’ve got the umm…on my leg.” I countered pretty lamely.
“Well, you better get the umm out of your leg or there’s going to be a nasty one on the face!”
This wasn’t going entirely according to plan. It would take more than a kick under the table to make Ricky see light.
“So Ritesh, dude, Sweta’s your steady for the moment, eh?” The guy was on a roll now. Point in case: Sweta was definitely getting red around the higher contours of her face.
Still in no mood to stop he continued, “But I’d say Pooja was better looking. Dumb, sure. But that was a hot one- okay that’s it, you dung beetle, what on earth are you kicking me for?!”
If seeing Ritesh score once with a girl he obviously cared so much about meant me taking one, I was damned if I let Ritesh down. But Ritesh had other plans. I could see that he was in one of his Brutus-like conflicts again, but he was making more progress than the Roman.
“Ricky, if you wouldn’t mind, could I see you in the restroom for a minute?” he said.
“Well, my boy, you can see me right here. I’m sure Wrik can mange what you have to say!”
“Yes, well you see, there’s also Sweta and I’m not so su -”
“Oh save it up for later then! I think me and Sweta should get to know each other a bit. What say?” Evidently, the ill-effects of Ricky were starting to tell on Sweta when she dropped her spoon on hearing Ricky’s words.
“Oh? I-I’m sure we c-could do this s-some other time…”she had started. But Ricky was a hard man to cut down.
“Pshaw! The night is young and you’re almost pretty-”
“That’s it Ricky, out you go!” Ritesh had had enough. Now Ricky was confused. Now he was starting to see light. Well, almost.
“What? What’d I do?!”
“I don’t care what you did, darn it! I jus want you ten miles away from us at the moment!”
“Oh I see what’s going on here. You think I’m not good enough for-”
We never got to hear what Ricky had to say. An orderly had come up to our table and had witnessed the scene for the last couple of minutes.
“I’m sorry sir, but the Leopold does not require this sort of behaviour. I have to ask you to leave.”
“Oh, this gentleman was about to leave our table,” I started pointing at Ricky, “so, umm…I’m sure we could-”
“I’m sorry sir. But the entire company has to leave. Your bill is here.”
And with that he was off. Ricky got up and gave us both very nasty looks. It was just me, Ritesh and Sweta now. She looked rattled. Well, we had to leave the place right then. It was getting pretty late anyway.
As Ritesh was hauling for a taxi, he looked really forlorn. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the chap. His entire evening had gone haywire.
“Sweta, I’m really sorry that the evening had to-”
She kissed him gently on the cheek and said “So we need to go out some other time again. I’m sure Wrik could manage some time. Well, my taxi’s here. Bye.”
I remember having driven Ritesh home that night.
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